


Wish I May, Wish I Might

by missbecky



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Comics), Iron Man (Comic), Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Fix-It, Happy Ending, M/M, Starkquill - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-02-15 17:31:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2237541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbecky/pseuds/missbecky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark has never known how to be kind to himself. But then Peter Quill brings him to a satellite that bills itself as a place where anything is possible, and shows him how true that can be. Even for someone who doesn't deserve it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wish I May, Wish I Might

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Желаю, чтоб сбылось хоть раз](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3598734) by [MouseGemini](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MouseGemini/pseuds/MouseGemini)



> Contains vague spoilers for Superior Iron Man, along with my own thoughts on how I'd like to see that arc end.

Technically speaking, Peter remains _persona non grata_ in the Kree Empire, thanks to his unintentional but catastrophic mistake in letting the Phalanx nearly destroy the Kree – along with half the galaxy. All that happened a few years ago, but the Kree have long memories, and as a general rule, the Guardians tend to stay away from their territory now.

But Ra'Vel is located within their borders, so that is exactly where they are headed. Which raises an interesting question.

"Tell me again why we have to go there," Tony says. "What's so special about this place?"

"A question only someone who hasn't been there would ask," Rocket says with a knowing wink at Gamora.

"It's an artificial satellite," Peter says. "Nobody knows who built it, it was so long ago."

"All your dumb Earth legends about 'pleasure planets' got nothing on Ra'Vel," says Rocket.

Drax makes an appreciative little humming noise.

Tony looks around the table. The remains of their dinner are still set out in front of them; no one has bothered to clean up yet. It's actually pretty late, but nobody seems inclined to call it a night. They're all in a mood to talk and share stories.

Tonight the topic of conversation is Ra'Vel, which is their current destination. And there are plenty of stories, all right.

"Anything you can think of, you can find it on Ra'Vel," Rocket says. "And I do mean _anything._ "

For a moment no one speaks, each of them lost in their own thoughts, no doubt remembering an instance from their past when they were on this so-called wonder satellite. 

Tony just looks at them, not sure what to say. He gets the impression sometimes that the Guardians enjoy, well, not mocking him exactly, because that implies a cruelty that they don't possess, but teasing him, maybe, about his wide-eyed Terran ignorance. This time, though, he thinks they're actually serious about their nostalgia.

Apparently this place really _is_ just that amazing.

He smiles a little, interested in spite of himself. He knows they're going out of their way to reach this place, that they've chosen Ra'Vel because of him, because Peter insisted on it when Tony was somewhere else and not able to hear them talking about him. 

He doesn't mind.

By all rights he shouldn't even be here. And he definitely shouldn't be feeling so good about things. After all, he is supposed to be on Earth, making amends. He is supposed to be atoning for what he did.

Coming back here was Carol's idea, really. She had returned from her adventures in space only to find him holed up in his home in California, so ashamed over what he had done in San Francisco with Extremis and his behavior toward the other Avengers that he couldn't bring himself to return to New York. She had read him the riot act for what he had done – but then she had forgiven him. He had broken down crying in front of her, and she had comforted him, the way he had done for her so many years ago.

And when he was done crying, Carol said, "When was the last time you were truly happy, Tony?"

He hadn't had an answer for her. He honestly couldn't remember. So he had given her his best guess, and told her that he had been happy when he had been out in space with the Guardians of the Galaxy. It hadn't really been true, not completely, because even then the shadow of the incursions and his role in what was to come had lain heavily on him. But he _had_ enjoyed himself during those days, despite all that, so he supposed maybe it wasn't really a lie to say he had been happy then.

Carol had arranged it all for him, and ensured that he wouldn't need to see any of the Avengers before he left. He had nearly balked at that, wanting to see Steve at least, but she had insisted. "Make a clean break," she said. "And just go."

He sees now that she was right. Within two days of being back here, he found himself slowly relaxing, putting down the burdens he carried up here with him. All the guilt, all the remorse, all the self-loathing – it all seems lighter up here.

And a lot of that is due to the man sitting across from him.

On his first tour with the Guardians, he and Peter Quill hit it off right away. They had fallen into an easy friendship as though they had known each other for years. It had caught Tony off guard, in fact, with how quickly they went from being mere acquaintances to sharing inside jokes and secret glances. And when they began sleeping together, no one was more surprised than he was. But it was good. It was real good.

And yeah, he thinks he was happy here before.

He thinks he could even be happy again.

****

They arrive at Ra'Vel two days later. And it is indeed pretty amazing.

This is where people come when they have money to burn and time to waste. Everything is for sale, and it's all expensive. There are restaurants by the score, catering to every palate. Casinos light up the night, offering dreams of even more money. Bars and clubs line the streets, a dozen different types of music joining together into a cacophony of sound.

Away from the cities – which aren't really cities at all but clusters of hotels and restaurants that have given rise to city-like structures – there are enormous biodomes containing different ecological systems. You can spend a day frolicking on the beach and swimming in a green ocean. Have a picnic on a mountaintop beneath a purple sky. Climb a volcano. Fly through an ionic lightning storm at night. Anything is possible.

The other Guardians have already dispersed, Rocket and Groot together, Drax and Gamora headed in separate directions. Only Peter lingers, standing with Tony in the spaceport. From here they can take an automated taxi to anywhere in the city. Or if they want to go somewhere further away, say, halfway across the satellite's surface, there are shuttles which leave every fifteen minutes.

Here on Ra'Vel, time is money.

"Anywhere you want to go?" Peter asks.

Tony looks over at him. He feels a sudden rush of excitement, something he hasn't felt in a long time. He's on a strange new world, where it seems that in fact anything really _is_ possible. There will be fascinating new technology to learn about. New cultures and people to see and discover. Strange new foods to eat and alien music to listen to.

And all of it with Peter by his side.

He smiles. "You're the one who's been here before," he says. "I'm just along for the ride."

"There's so many places I want to show you," Peter says. "I don't know where to start."

He's never once asked what Tony did on Earth that was so terrible, or why he came running back to them. None of them have asked. None of them have accused him of using them as a way to avoid his responsibilities. They just took him back without question. Maybe Carol told them. Maybe they had the news from their own sources.

Maybe they just don't care.

"Let's just wander," he suggests. "See what there is."

Peter nods. "Okay."

They take one of the automated taxis into the city. It's little more than a flatcar with places to sit along the walls, and lots of open room to place all the purchases a rider must have surely bought in the city. It hums along with no one up front, and Tony would love to take it apart and examine its navigation system, but of course he won't. They're all under strict orders not to call attention to themselves. There might be no law and order on Ra'Vel, but if there's a big enough kerfluffle, the Kree have been known to send soldiers down to investigate.

Within minutes they arrive, and the city stretches out before them. Lights and signs and people of all colors and shapes and music and androids and all of it in constant motion and Tony just stands there for a moment, gawking like a tourist, which hello, he is.

"Ready?" Peter asks.

Tony considers the question. He's in the suit, of course, not having known what to expect when they arrived. He figures it's only fair; next to him, Peter is armed, and the other Guardians were too, when they left. There is a lot of theft here, apparently, which makes sense given the obscene amounts of money flying around.

Looking around, though, he's not sure he'll need the suit. If Ra'Vel were truly dangerous, Peter would never have brought him here. And it occurs to him that sometimes a show of faith can be a good thing.

It's simple to mentally release the suit with Extremis. It's miniaturized again, although not within his own body; the days of the Bleeding Edge armor are long behind him. This new crimson armor – he destroyed the white suit he wore during the height of his tyranny in San Francisco – comes apart and compresses itself into incredibly tiny segments, which he stores in a case attached to his belt. It all happens within seconds, and if anyone on the street saw it, no one gives even the slightest indication.

"Neat," Peter says with admiration.

Tony nods. He knows it's selfish to keep Extremis for himself when he had to take it away from everyone else, but he can't help it. He argued with Carol that it would allow him to do greater good and accelerate his atonement for what he did. Removing it from himself will be his last act of penance. He didn't say that it would also be a punishment, but in effect that's exactly what it will be. He never told anyone this, but he really missed having Extremis; he loves having it back now. Losing it again will be a terrible blow, but it will be no more than what he deserves.

He has it now, though, and he doesn't hesitate to use it. Extremis is letting him understand the babble of alien languages all around him. He doesn't dare try to connect to any of the tech here – but he knows he _will_ try, later.

For now, though, he's content just to take it all in. He stands there on the sidewalk in the black-and-blue undersuit, which isn't all that different from what a lot of people are wearing here, and he makes a gesture to the street. "Where to?"

"Anywhere you like," Peter says, and they set off.

****

The day passes in a whirl of activity. Without seeming to, Peter steers them toward a marketplace that caters toward techies. When Tony first spies the merchandise for sale here, he gasps in shocked delight. "Oh my God, they have—" and then he's hurrying forward, words forgotten in his astonishment.

He happily wanders for hours, buying what he can afford and casting covetous eyes over the rest. He knows now why those automated taxis have so much room inside; he's definitely going to need one to carry back everything he bought today. 

Peter walks beside him, uncomplaining at being turned into a pack mule while Tony browses and shops. He explains the alien tech whenever he can – which is surprisingly often; when it comes to knowledge about other worlds and their cultures, few can outdo Peter Quill. Tony listens and learns, and buys and buys and buys, and by the time they leave the market, he's bursting with new ideas for ways to improve the suit, the Quinjets, and nearly all of the Avengers' gear and weaponry.

That is, assuming they'll ever let him get near their weaponry again.

"We can send all this back," Peter says. "The taxi will take it to the ship."

"And what then?" Tony asks.

"There are bots in the spaceport to help load and unload," Peter says.

"You just let them on your ship?" Tony asks, incredulous.

"In the cargo hold, sure," Peter says. Off Tony's frown, he says, "Don't worry. We scan for any signs of trouble before we leave. That's just standard procedure."

Peter's been here before and Tony has not, and at some point he's just going to have to trust that other people know what they're doing. So with an effort, he lets go of his objections, and he just nods. "Okay."

They call for the automated taxi and load it up with his purchases. They watch it go, following a straight path back to the spaceport.

"You hungry?" Peter asks.

Tony turns away from the taxi, which is little more than a silver dot in the distance now. He thinks it over. "Yeah," he says. "Who knew shopping was such hard work?"

****

The restaurant Peter chooses isn't the most luxurious or expensive, but it has the distinction of being the most discreet. The tables are round, and the booths curve around them in a circle, with room enough to accommodate even the largest of alien sizes. Every booth is curtained off, and it's the diner's choice if they want the curtain open or closed.

Peter orders one of everything, and asks their waiter to close the curtain. He looks over at Tony, and he smiles as he slides over so they are sitting side by side. "Hi."

"Hi," Tony says. 

His heart is beating faster all of a sudden. It's been a long, busy day, and so much of his attention has been elsewhere that he hasn't really taken the time to notice Peter.

But he notices now.

He sees a kind, intelligent man who has never asked for more than he could give. That original invitation to join the Guardians may have been issued on the spur of the moment, but it was not thoughtlessly offered. Peter made him feel welcome from the very beginning, and befriended him when it seemed like he was destined for a lonely life of exile.

Peter understands what it's like to make a terrible choice and do awful things in order to save others. He understands guilt and atonement – the Guardians of the Galaxy exist as they are because of Peter's need to make up for what he did with the Phalanx. But unlike Tony, he has never let the guilt consume him to the point of self-loathing. He's never lost his way.

It's far too late for Tony to learn that for himself, but it's not too late to appreciate it in someone else.

He leans in and gives Peter a kiss. He also happens to – very much – appreciate other things about Peter Quill. His brilliant blue eyes. His easy smile. His average physique and clever hands. The way he kisses Tony and touches him, like nothing else exists for him at that moment.

The curtain around their booth moves, and they break apart. No one enters, though; it must have just been someone walking past.

"Having fun?" Peter asks.

"Yes," Tony says honestly. "That market was something else. I felt like a kid in a candy store."

"There's others like it," Peter says. "We can visit them, too, if you want."

The idea fills Tony with excitement. He figures if he ever turns down the chance to explore new tech, it'll only be because he's six feet under. Still, he knows he should just be content with what he already has. They spent most of the day catering to his whims, pretty much ruining any plans Peter might have had for the day. The least he can do is make it up to him.

"Maybe," he says, and he hopes it came out sounding normal, not sullen or disappointed or anything like that.

"Okay," Peter says. He smiles a little. "You know, you're cute when you're shopping for alien gadgets."

Tony looks away. He doesn't _feel_ cute. He feels selfish and small. But he doesn't want to ruin what has so far been a really good day, so he says, "What exactly did you order? Do I need to worry about food allergies?"

For a moment Peter looks perturbed, but then he lets it go. "No," he says. "There _are_ things on the menu here that are poisonous to humans, but trust me, I didn't order those."

There's an interesting thought. Tony wonders how much of that stuff Peter found out through sheer bad luck, and how often his Spartoi genes saved him from dying.

The curtain is pulled back as their waiter arrives; the poor man has needed to enlist help from two other waiters in order to bring everything they ordered. The plates are lined up on the table, and they are warned which ones are too hot to touch. Their glasses are topped off, and then the staff leaves, once again discreetly pulling the curtain closed.

Tony eyes the food. Some of it looks rather dubious, but it all smells delicious. "Where do we start?"

Peter points to a dish of plump sausages curled around a mound of something that looks like – but almost certainly isn't – cole slaw. "With that," he says. "You're gonna love it."

Tony doesn't need to be told twice. He digs in.

****

Two hours later, the staggeringly expensive bill paid, they leave the restaurant. Tony feels like he's put on twenty pounds in one night; he can't remember the last time he ate so much. After all those entrees, there were at least half a dozen kinds of dessert they had to try - and every single one of them was amazing, too.

"I'm not going to fit into my armor now," he says with a laugh.

"Well, we can't have that," Peter says. And as they start to walk down the street, he laces his fingers through Tony's.

Tony jerks back a little, taken off guard by this simple gesture. He doesn't pull away, and he's pretty sure Peter doesn't even notice, but he can't help feeling like a fraud.

He knows he doesn't deserve this. Any of this. Not after what he's done. More to the point, he's not only a futurist, he's a realist. He knows none of this will last. Sooner or later he will have to return to Earth and leave Peter Quill and the Guardians of the Galaxy behind.

Sooner or later he will have to stop running.

Like a ghost from the past, a voice rises up in his memory. It's Pepper, sounding both exasperated and sorrowful. _Oh Tony, why can't you ever be kind to yourself?_

He doesn't know how to do that. He never has. Pepper knew it, too, which was why she was so exasperated with him.

But he can try. He can do that much at least. And so, even though he doesn't deserve it, Tony lets himself hold onto Peter's hand as they go for a walk on this shining satellite set in the middle of the galaxy.

The pace Peter sets is leisurely. The streets are even more crowded at night than they were in the afternoon. Music drifts through open doorways and windows, and lights strobe into the night. The stars overhead are artificial, of course, projected onto a night sky that doesn't technically exist. Like everything else about Ra'Vel, it is fake, but very pretty.

They walk past other restaurants, massage parlors, bars. Peter points out a tall structure that looks like it's made of towers of yellow glass. "That's the Golden Luck," he says. "Largest casino here. I guarantee you Rocket is in there, making a fortune."

"Looks impressive," Tony says. If the architects of Las Vegas could see the Golden Luck, they would probably break down weeping.

"We can go in if you want," Peter says. He hesitates. "I don't think they serve anything without alcohol, though."

Just the fact that he would ask is enough to make Tony feel touched and grateful. And although he would like to go inside the casino and see what it's like, his sobriety is still too new. He fought too long and hard to regain it, and he'd rather not take a chance. "Rocket can tell us how it was," he says.

Peter just nods and doesn't say anything. But his hand squeezes Tony's.

They walk on. They turn down a side street and the scent of something sweet and sugary fills the air. If he hadn't just eaten his body weight in new alien foods, Tony would be tempted to try whatever it is that smells so good, but there's no way he can eat anything else, so he doesn't even suggest it.

On and on they walk. The air is warm but not stifling. Overhead the stars turn, keeping precise time by whatever machines rule their nightly appearance. Somewhere on the other side of the satellite, it is the middle of the afternoon, and the sun is maybe blue or green. Somewhere his new friends are out there, enjoying themselves and this chance to rest and forget their duties for a while.

The only person Tony wants to be with, though, is already at his side. They saunter onward, looking in shop windows and stopping to watch street entertainment from time to time. He doesn't let go of Peter's hand, and twice, when they've momentarily stopped walking, he steals another kiss.

He doesn't know for sure what Peter has planned for tonight, but he knows what _he_ would like to do, once it's just the two of them. And it sure as hell doesn't involve shopping.

The city stretches ever onward. As the artificial night deepens, the lights from the shops and discos and tattoo parlors seem to grow brighter. They pass beneath pools of light flashing violet, red, and green. Color shadows Peter's eyes and plays on his hair.

It's a pretty sight. Peter is meant to be in the light, Tony thinks. For the aesthetics alone, he'd like to see Peter in his old uniform again, with those vivid blues and reds, but for reasons Peter won't explain, he has refused to wear it. It was Tony who donned that old suit when Angela suddenly arrived and his own armor was still torn to pieces and in need of repair.

Nowadays Peter prefers more muted colors over the colorful costume from before. Tony wants to know why, but he won't ask, and probably for the same reasons Peter hasn't asked him about what happened back on Earth. 

Questions have no place in this world they've fashioned for themselves.

They turn another corner, and ahead in the distance is the Golden Luck Casino. They've made a large circle through the city.

"What's that?" Tony points to a gold ball dangling from a short golden chain. The chain is attached to a slim gold pole that juts out from the peak of the tallest tower of the casino. From this distance the orb looks small, but it must be fairly large for them to even see it at all, this far out.

"I'm not really sure," Peter replies, "but legend has it that if you make a wish and touch it, your wish will come true."

Tony eyes the orb as they draw near the casino. There's no way to get up there that he can see. Even someone daring enough to scale the tower and inch out onto the roof would find themselves unable to touch the orb. Reed Richards could manage it by lying there and stretching his arm out, but anyone else would require a six-foot long reach. And while there are probably a few aliens on Ra'Vel capable of such a thing, so far Tony hasn't seen any.

He glances over and sees Peter staring at him, the tiniest smile playing about his lips. It's plain to see what he's thinking – and Tony smiles in return, ever up for the challenge.

"Race you?" Peter suggests. And before Tony can even respond, he's activated his boot jets and is arcing up through the air.

Tony hesitates a split second, unsure if he wants to summon the armor in front of a crowded street like this. A moment later, though, his competitive spirit kicks in and he wonders why he even bothered to pretend that he wasn't going to do this.

In a flash he has the armor at his mental command, opening the case at his belt so the pieces inside can materialize around him. The boots form themselves about his legs and feet within seconds, and then he's rocketing high into the night, soaring above the startled people on the street.

Despite his head start, there was never any chance that Peter would get there first. Tony shoots past him with a jaunty grin and a two-fingered salute. The orb grows larger and larger, shining against the starry sky with its own golden light, and then he's there, setting his palm upon it.

He thinks about what Peter said, that legend of the wishes come true, and absurdly, what comes into his head is the old child's rhyme. He doesn't remember ever saying it, not even as a young child, but he supposes he must have at some point.

He closes his eyes briefly, granting the words power over him. _Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight. Wish I may, wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight._

_Please._

Tony opens his eyes, and there is Peter, hovering on the other side of the orb and smiling at him. "Congratulations." He gestures at the golden ball, but makes no move to touch it. "What did you wish for? Or can you say?"

_Wish I may, wish I might._

"You," Tony says. "I wished for you." And right there, in plain sight of everyone on the street below, he leans in and kisses Peter.

It's a sweet kiss at first, almost chaste. Then one of Peter's hands rises to touch the side of his neck, thumb lightly brushing his jawline. The unreality of their situation sets in, and Tony deepens the kiss, suddenly wanting more, so much more.

Peter pulls away just enough to tip his forehead against Tony's. "So much for not calling attention to ourselves," he murmurs.

"It's for a good cause," Tony replies.

Peter smiles. "True." His other hand, Tony sees, now rests on the golden orb.

He doesn't ask what Peter wished for. He has a feeling he already knows.

Down below, people are exclaiming and pointing at them. "We should head back," he says. The longer they hover here in mid-air, the greater the risk of actually getting into trouble. And he saw a luxury hotel down the street that he wants to take them to. Someplace where he can take a long hot shower and stand beneath the water without worrying about waste. Where he can press Peter up against the wall and kiss him breathless, then turn him around and lay him down on the bed. Where they can be as noisy as they want and stay up all night, only to eventually fall asleep wrapped around each other in a tangle of bed sheets and limbs.

Where he can make their wishes come true.

"Yeah," Peter says. "Good idea."

They start to swoop downward, back toward the street, and suddenly Tony laughs. Why walk when they can fly? "Come on," he says, and he waves his arm. 

Peter hesitates just long enough for Tony to think he's made a mistake, but then he shrugs and smiles. "Why not?"

Tony grins. This isn't like flying with Carol or Rhodey, where they're always challenging each other to be faster and better, pushing the limits of what they can do in the sky. That is fun in its own right, but this is different. He slows his speed to match Peter's, and they fly through the night as equals. It's so deeply satisfying that Tony marvels that he never did something like this before. That he never even realized he could be so pleased over such a small, simple thing.

They fly through the artificial night sky, high above the colored lights, far below the falsely glittering stars. Despite the massive meal he ate earlier tonight, Tony feels ridiculously light all over, as though nothing is weighing him down. For once all the guilt and blame he constantly feels have been left behind.

He thinks he might actually be happy.

He doesn't say anything, though. He doesn't want to spoil the moment. He just continues onward, Peter at his side, as they fly over the streets of this place of wonder, where anything is possible.


End file.
